


Blinding, Beautiful and Utterly Life-Saving

by MagicMeg



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: F/M, Fake AH Crew, Mentions of Violence, Minor established Mavin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 05:57:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5816773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMeg/pseuds/MagicMeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being in love with Meg was far from what Ryan had mathematically figured love would have to be in Los Santos. </p>
<p>Or in other words, how the Vagabond fell in love with RWBY's Doll-Face</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blinding, Beautiful and Utterly Life-Saving

It was like the light in a firefight, the rich colour to a flare and the wind underneath a hastily drawn parachute. Falling in love, in Los Santos was just like that; blinding, beautiful and utterly life-saving.

They would be but empty souls which had been carved out by each kill from their blade, or equally their shotgun. Had they not love in their hands, they would only have had blood seeping through their fingers and staining underneath their nails.

They know this because that’s how it used to be. Los Santos is Hades’ cradle of suffering and whilst they thrived with their crews and with their love for destruction – things seemed too grey like they could never get the fog out of their eyes from a mistimed smoke grenade.

It was all grey like his mask, which adorned his face as he pushed his way, shoulder first, into an abandoned building. The door gave way under his weight and that’s when Ryan first bumped into _her_.

He tumbled right into her, her dainty body collapsing under him. She had a gun pressed to his temple seconds before he had a knife to her throat. Her brown eyes widened and he gaped (though she could not see his mouth parted in awe from behind his skull-mask).

“Vagabond?!” she asked in both shock and awe – though not fear. Her gun didn’t move so his knife didn’t either, though he was hesitant to slit such a pretty neck.

“Who are you?” he asked gruffly, noting her bright red hair, which curled and flowed around her like it was blood coming from her head.

Her smile curled up into a wicked grin and she told him sweetly, “Doll-Face. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Part of RWBY,” he noted, “What are you doing here? This is our territory.”

“Well, I was under the impression that the Vagabond is meant to be out of town on a secret ‘mission’. Have I just blown your cover?” she teased. He fell silent. She giggled, “How about this – if you don’t tell, I won’t either?”

He paused. “Deal.”

They loosened their weapons on one another and he moved off her. They clamoured to their feet, brushed off the debris and stood – slightly awkwardly – as they waited for the other to make the first move.

“Well…” she began, “I’ll guess I’ll see you around, V.” And then she shot him a wink and headed down a corridor to their left, disappearing into the darkness.

* * *

The next time he saw her was a lot more formal. They were sat across each other on a negotiating table at one of Fake AH’s more public offices. RWBY and Fake AH were working on a deal to merge some of their territory – part of an ongoing attempt to create a formal partnership.

When he’d walked into the room she’d already been seated, with her heels propped up on the table as she sharpened a throwing knife. She sent him a grin as he caught her gaze and motioned for him to sit across from her.

So he did.

Normally, he sought out one of the Lads (like Jeremy, who was already seated at the other end of the table) who could make boring meetings like this more interesting. Yet he spent the meeting on the receiving end of flirty winks, not-so-sly notes and many strange looks from fellow crew-mates as his face burned red (he thanked the heavens for his mask).

Her notes weren’t anything deliberately embarrassing; some games of knots and crosses, hang man and some quips about his poor fitting trousers. It was more the attention itself which had him flustered. As Ruby Rose (or rather Lindsay, as he now knew her) and Geoff were making their final sum ups to the group a final note flew at him. He raised his eyebrow at her lack of discretion but she simply shrugged, unbothered. He unfolded the paper and his heart thudded at the series of numbers scribbled onto it.

He looked up at her. Her grin was stretched widely across her lips as she mouthed, ‘Call me.’

He knew from that point that he was well and truly fucked.

* * *

 

Their relationship began as such; they texted back and forth for about a week, finally divulging their real names to each other (he had mouthed ‘Meg’ a few times and liked the way it felt on his lips) and exploring their many common interests until she sent the panic-inducing text.

‘ _So you wanna go on a date sometime?’_

Michael had been sitting next to him at the time and when Ryan had stopped answering his questions about if he wanted take-out that night he said, “Dude, what the fuck’s wrong with you?”

“I… uhm… I….”

Losing his patience, Michael snatched the phone and as soon as he’d taken it his eyebrows flew up his forehead. “Look at you!” he cawed, “Got a date with Doll-Face hmm? What will Geoff say about you fraternizing with different crews?”

Blushing furiously, Ryan snatched his phone back. “Technically I haven’t said yes.”

“But you’re going to,” Michael pointed out, grinning like the bastard he was. Ryan shot him a look but this only induced more glee out of the younger man, “Awww ickle Rye-Rye’s got a cruuuush!”

Drawn to Michael’s cries of joy, Gavin, the ever-present boyfriend, burst into the room. “What’s this?” he demanded, eager to know what was making Ryan grumble about how lucky Michael was that he didn’t have his gun.

As Michael filled Gavin in, Ryan took the moment of distraction to quickly type a reply to Meg.

‘ _Of course.’_

* * *

Being in love in Los Santos was not what he expected. He had seen it in the faces of Michael and Gavin, and all those he passed in the street who was hand-in-hand with their loved one and could never imagine that being him.

He was the Vagabond for fucks sake. He had far too many enemies to languidly love and far too little time in life to push another distraction in.

But being in love with Meg was far from what he’d mathematically figured love would have to be in Los Santos. It was neither tiring nor a constant worry but rather like the light from the sun rising behind Mount Chiliad after a long stake out or the soothing warmth that came from stepping into the shower after a bruising battle.

The public caught on to their love affair quickly. How could they not? Meg adored planting red-lipstick kisses on his knuckles and his mask, and he lit up the sky with her name on their anniversary. But the public painted them as they saw them, the Vagabond and Doll-Face with their dark-blooded love which bruised and killed.

In reality, that was far from a faithful picture of their love. It was light, playful and full of video-games references. It was cuddling late into the morning and sprawling out on the sofa. It was having knife-throwing competitions and watching the sunset from a-top a skyscraper.

And maybe once and awhile they killed together but usually they just lived together. The Vagabond and Doll-Face. Meg and Ryan.

And it was blinding, beautiful and utterly life-saving.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! I was feeling poetic and that obviously means I'm going to write Turnwood and if I'm going to write *anything* it's going to be a GTA AU.


End file.
